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SOME OF US WILL UNDERSTAND THIS MORE THAN OTHERS~!

GOD ~ COUNTRY ~ HONOR

I just wanted to get the day over with and...........

go down to Smokey's for a few cold ones.

Sneaking a look at my watch, I saw the time, 1655.

Five minutes to go before the cemetery gates are closed for the day.

Full dress was hot in the August sun.

Oklahoma summertime was as bad as ever --

the heat and humidity at the same level -- both too high.

I saw the car pull into the drive,

'69 or '70 model Cadillac Deville, looked factory-new.

It pulled into the parking lot at a snail's pace .

An old woman got out so slow I thought she was paralyzed.

She had a cane and a sheaf of flowers,

about four or five bunches as best I could tell.

I couldn't help myself.

The thought came unwanted,

and left a slightly bitter taste:

'She's going to spend an hour,

and for this old soldier...my hip hurts like hell

and I'm ready to get out of here right now!'

But for this day my duty was to assist anyone coming in.

Kevin would lock the 'In' gate and if....

I could just hurry the old biddy along ,

we might make the last half of happy hour at Smokey's.

I broke Post Attention.

My hip made gritty noises when I took the first step

and the pain went up a notch.

I must have made a real military sight;

middle-aged man with a small pot-gut and half a limp,

in Marine Full Dress Uniform, which had lost its razor

crease about 30 minutes after I began the watch...

at the cemetery.

I stopped in front of her, halfway up the walk.

She looked up at me with an old woman's squint.

'Ma'am may I assist you in any way?'

She took long enough to answer.

'Yes, son. Can you carry these flowers?

I seem to be moving a tad slow these days.'

'My pleasure Ma'am.'

Well, it wasn't too much of a lie.

She looked again.

'Marine, where were you stationed?'

' Vietnam , Ma'am.

Ground-pounder. '69 to '71.'

She looked at me closer.

'Wounded in action, I see.

Well done, Marine, I'll be as quick as I can.'

I lied a little bigger, 'No hurry, Ma'am.'

She smiled............. and winked at me.

'Son, I'm 85-years old and I can tell a lie from a long way off.

Let's get this done, might be the last time I can do this.

My name's Joanne Wieserman, and I've a few Marines

I'd like to see one more time.'

'Yes, Ma'am, ?At your service.'

She headed for the World War I section, stopping at a stone.

She picked one of the bunches out of my arm

and laid it on top of the stone.

She murmured something I couldn't quite make out.

The name on the marble was;

Donald S. Davidson, USMC, France 1918.

She turned away and made a straight line for the

World War II section, stopping at one stone.

I saw a tear slowly tracking its way down her cheek.

She put a bunch on a stone;

the name was; Stephen X. Davidson, USMC, 1943.

She went up the row a ways and laid another bunch on a stone;

Stanley J. Wieserman USMC , 1944.

She paused for a second, 'Two more, son, and we'll be done'

I almost didn't say anything, but, 'Yes, Ma'am, Take your time.'

She looked confused. ?'Where's the Vietnam section, son?

I seem to have lost my way.'

I pointed with my chin. 'That way, Ma'am.'

'Oh!' she chuckled quietly.

'Son, me and old age ain't too friendly.'

She headed down the walk I'd pointed at.

She stopped at a couple of stones before

she found the ones she wanted.

She placed a bunch on Larry Wieserman USMC, 1968,

and the last one on Darrel Wieserman USMC, 1970.

She stood there and murmured a few words......

I still couldn't make out.

'OK, son , I'm finished.

Get me back to my car and you can go home.'

'Yes, Ma'am. ?If I may ask, were those your kinfolk ?'

She paused.

'Yes, Donald Davidson was my father;

Stephen was my uncle;

Stanley was my husband;

Larry and Darrel were our sons.

All killed in action, all Marines.'

She stopped, whether she had finished, or couldn't finish,

I just don't know.

She made her way to her car, slowly, and painfully.

I waited for a polite distance to come between us.......

and then double-timed it over to Kevin waiting by the car.

'Get to the 'Out'-gate QUICK~!, ?I have something I've JUSTgot to do.'

Kevin started to say something, but saw the look I gave him.

He broke the rules to get us there down the service road.

We beat her.

She hadn't made it around the rotunda yet.

'Kevin............ stand to attention next to the gate post.

Follow my lead.'

I humped it across the drive to the other post.

When the Cadillac came puttering around from the hedges

and began the short straight traverse to the gate,

I called in my best gunny's voice: 'TehenHut! Present Haaaarms!'

I have to hand it to Kevin, he never blinked an eye;

full dress attention and a salute that would make his DI proud.

She drove through that gate with two old worn-out soldiers

giving her a send off she deserved, for service rendered to

her country, and for knowing Duty, Honor and Sacrifice

I am not quite sure, but I think I saw............

a BIG salute returned from that Cadillac!

Instead of 'The End'.... just think of 'Taps'.

As a final thought on my part, let me share a favorite prayer:

'Lord, keep our servicemen and women safe,

whether they serve at home or overseas.

Hold them in Your loving hands and protect them as they protect us.'

Let's all keep those currently serving and those who have gone before,

in our thoughts. They are the reason for the many freedoms we enjoy.
'In God We Trust!'

This, too, was sent to me. I have no idea who actually wrote it. I have copied it verbatim with one exception. The last paragraph says "Nineteen centuries" and I have changed that to read "Twenty centuries" as we are now in the twenty-first century. I just "Googled" the name of this poem and found the following:

I understand that this is the original essay by Dr James Allan Francis in “The Real Jesus and Other Sermons” © 1926 by the Judson Press of Philadelphia (pp 123-124 titled “Arise Sir Knight!”).

If you read the original sermon/essay, they are slightly different then what I posted here. As I stated, I got this in a letter a long time ago.

He was born in an obscure village,
The child of a peasant woman.
He grew up in another obscure village
Where He worked in a carpenter shop
Until He was thirty.

He never wrote a book.
He never held an office.
He never went to college
He never visited a big city.
He never traveled more then two hundred miles
From the place where He was born.
He did none of the things
Usually associated with greatness.
He had no credentials but himself.

He was only thirty three when
The tide of public opinion turned against Him.
His friends ran away.
One of them denied Him.
He was turned over to his enemies
And went through the mockery of a trial.
He was nailed to a cross between two thieves.
While He was dying, His executioners gambled for
His Clothing, the only property He had on earth.

When He was dead
He was laid in a borrowed grave
Through the pity of a friend.

Twenty centuries have come and gone
And today Jesus is the central figure of the human race
And the leader of mankind's progress.
All the armies that have ever marched
All the navies that have ever sailed
All the parliaments that have ever sat
All the kings that have ever reigned put together
Have not affected the life of mankind on earth
as powerfully as that one solitary life!

From Out There by Georgie's Girl

Georgies-Girl

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